


fading memories (my face on a stage)

by androgenius



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: First Crush, Glenn Fraldarius Lives, M/M, Rodrigue Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgenius/pseuds/androgenius
Summary: Sylvain has always had a crush on Glenn. He just never expected anything to come of it.
Relationships: Glenn Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	fading memories (my face on a stage)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daniverse/gifts).



> I????? wrote something????? rated G?????? 
> 
> anyway everyone lives and first crushes are true love so we can call this utopia AU and I hope Dani loves it <3

Sylvain has always hated the cold.

He knows it's a matter of familiarity in part-- Faerghus has always been cold, nowhere more so than up in Gautier. The few sweltering days of summer that they are granted are a boon and a blessing as far as he is concerned, though the dog days of summer never do reach that high up north. Thankfully, his father has never had a problem with him going to the capital. 

It's a multilayered desire on his part. He enjoys spending time with his friends, of course, but--

It also means that he'll get to see Glenn. 

Being older than Felix and Dima, Sylvain already knows that babysitting them will fall on his shoulders sooner than later, but he's not old enough for that _yet_ , and while that's infuriating in its own right-- what if Glenn sees him as immature on account of not being old enough, after all?-- it does come with its benefits. 

Well, benefit. 

Just Glenn. 

As insulting as it is, having to have someone look after him, he can placate himself with the idea that Glenn is mostly there to watch out for Dima and Felix. Two years' difference feels like a lifetime when he considers the two of them, and he can't help but wonder if that's how Glenn views him, too. As far too young, so far removed from him in terms of maturity that he couldn't possibly compare. 

Glenn has been tasked with babysitting them so much he can't imagine an alternative, but he hopes it's not true. He should be the exception. Considering Felix's dramatics and Dima's choice of horseplay, he feels rather removed from that degree of childhood. 

He just doubts Glenn sees it that way. 

Glenn, who's the coolest knight-in-training he's ever seen. 

Glenn, who bickers with most people, but less with him.

Glenn, who's engaged to Ingrid. 

That last one hurts. 

It started last year, he thinks. Or-- he realized it last year, if nothing else. He imagines the feelings were always there, just hiding. 

Either way, Sylvain has always loved summers in the capital. 

Fraldarius and Gautier see each other often enough, but it's never a for-sure thing, not like this. Their summer excursions are practically routine at this point, and he counts on those bright bits of happiness, of long, sweltering hot days, and the company of someone he shouldn't want. 

It's Dima's idea, ultimately. The castle walls keep them cool enough, but there's no reason not to go swimming when the weather actually permits it, the water warm enough for them to enjoy instead of simply tolerate. One of the staff even packs a basket for them to take down to the lake with things to eat. 

Glenn is a default companion when it comes to these trips, and yet Sylvain's heart jumps regardless every time he hears the request extended to his friend's brother. In the past, he would have asked to hold his hand as they made their way down to the docks, but he's _twelve_ now, which is more than mature enough to walk on his own. 

He just hopes Glenn notices it, too. 

"They're going to look a bit lopsided," Glenn says once they reach their destination, Dima and Felix already pulling off their shirts.

"What is?"

"Watermelon," Felix explains. "I got to use Glenn's sword."

"Almost killed himself is what he did." It's hard not to look affected when Glenn is speaking right at him, eye contact and all, and for a moment he realizes why Felix is the way he is about looking people in the eye. It's just no good. He'll end up with a blush either way at this rate, even if he doesn't meet Glenn's gaze. 

"I don't care," Sylvain says, grabbing one of the slices from out of the proffered basket in the hopes of hiding behind it. They really are lopsided, but he wasn't kidding about not caring, even if he did say that just to look mature. 

Is there something immature about refusing lopsided watermelon? He wishes he knew, that there was some kind of manual on how to be as cool as a fourteen-year-old, but specifically a fourteen-year-old Glenn. 

"The snacks can wait," Glenn laughs, and Sylvain's ears redden after all. He really is pathetic. "Go play."

"Are you coming, too?"

"Nah, I'm staying here so I can watch in case Felix decides to drown the little prince."

"I wouldn't!" Felix protests, pausing in his undressing with a huff. 

There's nothing about that he really cares for right now-- he wants to sit here and talk to Glenn about absolutely _everything,_ but he knows that that would be ridiculous, that he's supposed to want to be spending time with his friends, that that's why they're here. 

So he puts the rest of his watermelon slice back in the basket, pulls off his own clothes, and follows after Dima and Felix, opting to cannonball in instead of just using the ladder. 

"Any chance to show off, huh?" Felix asks him when he resurfaces and shakes the water out of his hair. If he wasn't still red, he's certainly red again, even if he's sure that it isn't what Felix meant. He could have easily been showing off for the two of them, after all, not his brother--

"You know it!" he laughs, and dives back under to tickle Felix from below the waves.

&

They play for a while after that. For all his resistance, it's easy to get lost in the fun of it once he lets himself, and Glenn seems content enough to watch, even if it must be a boring job. Then again, even he gets in for a while after the lot of them have their watermelon and some of the packed bread and water, Felix only pouting a little when Glenn ends up lifting Dima onto his shoulders and tossing him into the water.

The glow of the sunset dawning on the horizon is undeniable, an unfortunate reminder of the time. Their day with Glenn won't last forever. 

He's been sitting on the docks again, with just enough room for a second person right beside him. It could be Sylvain there, spending the last few moments of their day with him, he just needs to work up the courage--

"Well?" Felix asks, and Sylvain realizes that he hasn't been listening to a word from either of them. 

"Huh? What?"

"We're going over there. You coming?"

"Oh, uh." Now's his chance, right? _Don't be an idiot, Sylvain._ "Nah, I think I'm gonna go back to the docks."

"Lame," Felix says, Dima reaching for his arm. 

"You don't mind if it'll just be the two of us, do you, Fel?" 

"Of course not!" Felix sounds almost offended. 

Sylvain laughs, but it sounds more performative than anything else, as though he was just hoping for them to ignore his acknowledgment so he might make his way back guilt-free. 

He floats on his back, kicking his feet as he watches the upside-down dock approach with an upside-down Glenn atop it. He looks more amused than anything else, which Sylvain supposes he'll settle for, even if it's not the ideal he's hoping for. Impressed, maybe? 

Maybe someday. 

"Back so soon, Little Lord?"

Sylvain feels his ears color all over again as he pulls himself up and onto the docks, still dripping as Glenn laughs. 

"Yeah." The evening air is chilly now despite the lingering heat of the summer daytime, and he notices that he's shivering after a moment. Tucking his hands under his thighs has him noticing just how sticky they left the deck earlier, though he doesn't move. 

"The boys okay?"

"Yeah, they went to go play over on the sandbar with the shells."

"You sure you don't want to go with them? You don't have to stay here with me."

"Of course I'm sure!" That came out a bit too fast and far too passionately, but now it's there, hanging in the air between them regardless. No taking it back, he supposes.

"The deck's kinda sticky, you know."

“Oh, I don’t care,” he says, which is a lie, because he very much does care. It seems like the right thing to say— something that will keep Glenn from telling him to join the other guys again or get in the water at least. He doesn’t want this moment to end, wants to sit here on this sticky dock with Glenn forever. 

"Here," he says, Sylvain looking up just in time for Glenn to drape his cape around his shoulders. The shock is almost enough to warm him all on its own, even if it weren't for the fur suddenly around his shoulders, the smell of Glenn all around him. 

"Won't you get cold?"

"Nah, I've got my legs in the water."

So does Sylvain, but he was still shivering. Still, he watches Glenn kick his beneath the water's surface, momentarily mesmerized. He's not shivering anymore, and that's all that really matters. 

That, and... Glenn caring enough to share his warmth with him feels like enough to keep his heart buoyed for the rest of the summer. 

Dimitri and Felix are playing a way's off. He can only imagine that Glenn isn't worried because he can still hear them, splashing in the shallows near the sandbar. Sylvain supposes that he was right. The water lapping at his ankles _is_ surprisingly warm, and he lets his feet swing a bit. Nothing childish about that-- after all, Glenn is doing it, too.

Glenn's foot finds his, and, at first, Sylvain thinks that it was just an accident, but then it happens again, and-- Glenn is looking at him with a grin, leaning in to nudge his shoulder with his own.

"It is warm," he hears himself say, his mind eager to latch onto just about anything to fill the silence with something other than his wanting. When he looks up, Glenn is... close, but not close enough by far, and Sylvain wants to kiss him so badly, but he's... he's _Glenn,_ Felix's older brother and Ingrid's fiancé, and he doubts that all the shoulder nudges in the world wouldn't be sufficient to justify something quite so egregious.

If he could just... take his hand. Just let his little finger nudge against Glenn's as a hint, wrap around it and cage it as a confession--

 _I really admire you,_ he thinks about saying instead of the full truth, which is _I'm so enamored with you that I can barely breathe sometimes._

It's shockingly quiet, naught but the sounds of the cicadas filling the night sky.

"You know," Glenn starts slowly, his voice soft and quiet enough that, if Sylvain closes his eyes, he can just imagine them having been whispered against the shell of his ear. Only the most important thing is missing, the touch of Glenn's breath against his ear, his touch-- "I know I'm not your brother, but... I also know that Miklan is kind of shit, so," he lets out a laugh, far softer than any mention of his brother deserves, "even though I'm not your real brother, I'm glad I can kind of be there for you like that."

It feels a little like he's been punched in the gut, and he hears himself laugh, the sound tinged with a hint of nervousness. 

"I don't--" He starts talking before he can stop himself, Sylvain shaking his head. "I don't want-- need you to be like my brother, I've kind of had my fill of those. I'd rather you were like my--" 

He feels reduced to varying shades of red.

 _Boyfriend,_ his mind supplies, practically screaming it at him. 

"Like what?"

 _Boyfriend,_ he thinks again, wishing he could just telepathically transmit the word into Glenn's head. Or-- he could just put his hand on top of his and he'd understand, right? Even though he's engaged to Ingrid? By Sothis' left tit, he _hates_ Ingrid right now for getting to have this, feels sick to his stomach with want--

Pushing Glenn's cape back and off of him, he gets up to pull off his clothes again, still damp but far drier than before. "You know," he laughs, "I think I'll go check on the boys."

He jumps back in, and _goddess,_ it's so fucking cold now after being warmed by shame and Glenn's cape.

"I can see them, ya goof. They're stargazing on the sandbar."

"Well, too late now! Might as well check, anyway!" 

He turns around, kicking his legs a few times before allowing his arms to take over completely. 

Why is he crying? He's the coward here. He could have said something, could have taken Glenn's hand-- 

He'll tell him. Maybe not when he gets back to the dock and maybe not tonight, but-- he'll tell him.

He has to. 

&

He doesn't tell him. 

Not that night or the next night or any night after that. Instead, he's precisely the coward he thought he was all along. 

And then Glenn dies. 

No one ever listened to him before, but it's worse now when he tries to tell them that he's not really dead. Miklan hits him for it, for "being an inconsiderate little shit," which he supposes he deserves. 

Felix socks him in the arm and tells him to shut the fuck up when he tries to tell him, which he supposes he also deserves.

"It's just wish-fulfillment," Ingrid tells him and surprisingly doesn't hit him, though the look she shoots him might have been more painful. "Believe me, I don't want him to be gone, either, but..." 

Dimitri doesn't say anything. 

The four of them don't end up seeing each other again until Garreg Mach, when everything is different and Glenn's death has become an accepted truth, a part of Faerghus history as much as the rebellion that followed it and its aftermath. Dimitri and Felix don't talk anymore, Ingrid is no one's fiancée, and Sylvain has no one to pine after, though plenty of people to fuck. They're like a shattered, broken puzzle scattered from one end of the Fódlan shores to the other. 

It's unfortunate that Sylvain hates change. 

It doesn't seem to stop its relentless assault once it starts. The ball keeps rolling even in spite of everything, not stopping once until Sylvain ends up back home with one less friend and one less professor to show for all his time spent at school. 

His parents are proud, and for what? For surviving? Getting stronger? At what cost?

Would Glenn have been proud of him? 

Things don't get different so much as they get _worse_ after that, Sylvain finally deciding to bury his hope along with his childish fantasies. Glenn isn't alive, his first time wasn't magical and special, school was more disillusioning than anything else, and everyone that ever mattered to him will die sooner or later, whether the death is figurative or literal. 

He shares none of this, just keeps cracking jokes and sleeping around, this time with the help.

And Felix is of no use, not with him obsessed with finding Dimitri. All that leaves Sylvain with is lingering guilt over not going out to find Glenn. They never did find his body, and--

He shakes his head. 

Glenn is dead.

&

Glenn ends up showing up as part of the Alliance, scarred to shit but fucking _alive,_ and Sylvain has to hold Felix back from going mad with rage. 

Not that he can blame him.

Couldn't he have said something? Come back home? It's been years.

Still. It's almost worth it if only for the fact that Sylvain gets to tell everyone that he told them so. 

&

The battle doesn't end fast enough, and then the talks following likewise end up dragging on, both political and familial. Sylvain waits outside the tents of Important People That Aren't Him and tries not to burst in with a crudely-timed joke. 

The short of it-- if his listening in hasn't misled him-- is that Glenn was comatose for a long time, and in recovery for even longer. The chance to make it home just wasn't there and available to him, even if he's coming home now-- Rodrigue had made at least that much clear. 

Sylvain isn't sure how to feel. 

Does it mean that he and Ingrid are engaged again? That they never _weren't_? Ingrid has been getting closer with Mercedes if he's not wrong about that-- he can't imagine that Glenn's sudden reappearance would just erase those feelings. 

Even if he knows that his own have been anything but erased. 

It ends up taking until sundown for Glenn to find him, the sun already well on its way to sinking beyond the horizon as he moves to sit beside him, their legs dangling off the edge of one of the hilltop platforms on the former battlefield. 

"Hey, Little Lord. Miss me?"

It's hard to joke about that, but he can't just admit it, either, and it just feels wrong to hit a man still on crutches. "I would have, but then you took, what, years to come back from the dead? You're an old man now."

Glenn laughs, his shoulder finding Sylvain's to nudge. And _fuck_ if his stomach doesn't jump all over again. "What does that make you, huh?"

"Little Lord."

"You're right... high time I start calling you Old Lord."

"Just _Sylvain_ 's fine, too, you know. No need to get smart."

"Well, in that case, you owe me something, Sylvain."

He can feel his heartbeat thunder in his ears, fingernails digging into wood.

"I do, huh?"

"The end of your sentence."

He doesn't have to be reminded, his pulse speeding up all at once. Thunder, more than an understatement, has become a distant memory. The beat of his heart is cacophonous in his veins. 

_I'd rather you were like my--_

Why the fuck does Glenn remember that? More importantly, why does being around Glenn make him feel twelve years old again?

He laughs. "What makes you so sure that it hasn't changed, huh? You've been gone for so long, for all you know I've become way cooler and way more adult--"

Glenn is kissing him. 

_Glenn_ is kissing _him._

Oh.

Right. 

He's Sylvain Jose Gautier, heir to House Gautier, twenty-four years old. Gronder field has been reduced to the head of a pin, to a single moment in time. The splintered wood under his hand might as well be the dock from a dozen years back, just less sticky. A million meaningless sexual encounters have been rendered null and void in a fraction of a second.

And Glenn is kissing him.

He realizes only a moment later when Glenn starts to pull back that Sylvain hasn't been kissing _him,_ and just like that, his hand is in Glenn's hair to keep him from leaving. 

His lips are softer than he'd expected them to be, his cheek warmer and more real than one might imagine of a person returned from the dead, his hair exactly as silky and soft as he'd hoped. He's... alive, he's here, and he's breathtaking in every way.

Glenn breaks off their kiss to rest his forehead against Sylvain's, and he slowly lets his hands fall and disentangle before he pulls away in full. 

"Wasn't sure if I'd just imagined that. Had me wondering when you didn't kiss me back."

Ha! _Wondering._ Sylvain would have had a panic attack. But Glenn's always been cool, and obviously none of that has changed. 

"Oh no, you totally just imagined it! I definitely wasn't... crushing on you for years, or anything, before you had to go be a dick and die..."

"Sorry for dying on you, Little Lord."

"Yeah," he says at first, still bordering on starstruck when he changes his mind. Cool! He needs to be cooler! "I'm big now, you know! Huge, even. Bigger than you!"

"We'll see about that," Glenn says, and kisses him again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on twitter [@androugenius](https://www.twitter.com/androugenius)!


End file.
